kyle’s always been the pretty boy. the one birds fawn over at the pub, and in the cereal aisle at the shop, and on the midnight train after the captain bullies him into going home and getting some well-deserved rest. old ladies coo at him, waitresses draw hearts on his cheques, his own teammates tease him, for fuck’s sake.
“maybe if kyle bats his eyelashes at ‘em, we can slip past before they notice us.”
“the only way you’re comin’ out with us tonight is if you were a fuckin’ bag over your head. i never get laid when you’re around.”
“price might fall for those eyes, but i won’t. paperwork on my desk by noon, garrick.”
even when he was young, his ma’s girlfriends would laugh about how much trouble he’d cause, all the hearts he was bound to break, when he grew up. he still remembers how his sisters made fun of him come prom season, when he couldn’t decide which of the dozen invitations he received to accept.
kyle’s always been the pretty boy — until an untimely explosion melts the entire right side of his face into something unrecognizable and, in his eyes, horrific. gone is that heart-stopping grin, his silken skin, and quarter-deep dimples. no more of the cheesy winks he loved to throw around, what with his lack of an eyelid.
no-one’s swooning over him anymore. rather than the blood rushing to a handsome someone’s cheeks when he says hello, it drains from their face completely. no-one will look him in the eye nowadays. the pretty single mum down the street who he once had lunch with now goes out of her way to cross the road when she spots him, shielding her children’s’ eyes like the mere sight of him might traumatize them. the grandmas who used to compliment his warm eyes and soft curls stare at him blatantly, piteously, whisper behind their hands when he passes but won’t dare to address him directly. his favorite bartender turns his flirtations to johnny, who, uncharacteristically, doesn’t even have the heart to poke fun at him for it.
but he should be grateful, right? he could’ve died. he’s lucky to even be here. to be walking, talking, his limbs in tact, heart still beating. it could be worse.
that’s what he tells himself every time a toddler wails at the sight of him standing behind them in line at the coffee shop. whenever price gives him that look, full of worry and self-loathing. it could be worse, he tells himself, the first time he sees his mother after the explosion, and she gasps like she can’t recognize her own goddamned son. but he should be grateful.
he damn near throttles laswell when she suggests that he check out a local support group, saying that he needs to talk to someone since he clearly isn’t going to talk to them. talk about what, he wonders. it isn’t as though there’s anything that can be done about it. it’s beyond fixing, the doctors said so themselves. talking about it will only make him out to be some shallow, self-obsessed little prick, who obviously cares more for his vanity than his life.
he knows what he is. he certainly doesn’t need anyone to point it out.
the flier collects dust on his kitchen counter, gets lost in all of his junk mail and get-well-soon cards, damned to oblivion. he forgets about it — for a while at least, until his oldest sister forces her way into his flat and starts cleaning, claiming that their mother would have his head if she saw what a mess he’s made. she tacks it to the fridge, where kyle has no choice but to see it.
“what harm could it do, ky? you’ve been hiding from us for months — we’re worried about you.”
that’s what finally convinces him. not because he thinks he needs it, or believes it’ll do him any good, or even because he wants to soothe their spirits. simply because he wants them off his back, wants to be allowed to wallow in his misery, in peace, just for a little while longer.
so, he goes. he surrounds himself with a bunch of war-torn veterans, with stories so gruesome that even his stomach churns, he sits alone and speaks to no-one, doesn’t look anyone in the eye, and he listens.
he listens to them talk about their dead friends, their battles won, and their loves lost, about their journeys back to health, and their wisdom hard-earned.
one man — pushing eighty and missing both legs — says something that sticks with him.
“you can be mad, you can curse god, you can spend the rest of your life thinkin’ ‘what if’, but it ain’t gonna change shit. you either grow a pair and get over it, or you don’t — if you can’t make peace with that, you’re better off dead.”
yeah, maybe.
he goes again the following tuesday, and the next, until it’s become a regular part of his routine. he sits alone, still, he doesn’t talk much, to anyone, but they come to expect him. they recognize him. they smile when he walks in. no one flinches at the sight of him, no one’s pitying him, no one’s demanding answers he’s not ready to give. they accept him without expecting anything tangible in return, sans his company.
it doesn’t necessarily make him feel better, it doesn’t make him hate the man in the mirror any less, but it gets him out of his flat. it gives him something to tell the team about when they check up on him on sunday nights.
then, about two months into his newfound routine, he spots you, sat on the opposite end of the room, holding space like it’s been yours all along.
the last time your paths crossed was in boot-camp. a lifetime ago, it feels like. before the 141, before the incident. he was somebody else back then. and so, it seems, were you.
he remembers you as an over-eager, overly-confident recruit, like he, himself, was. you’re older now, battle-weary, weathered by war, grief, and the world itself. you sip your coffee through a straw because your hands tremble too fiercely to hold a mug. an angry, red scar cuts your face in two.
you aren’t new around here, that much is made clear by the way they greet you, with hugs and well-wishes. how long’s it been, he wonders, since you got out?
sammy, who runs the group, goes down the line one-by-one, like she always does, asking all the right questions. elijah saw his grandbabies this weekend. cody’s been cleared for active duty — he’ll return to the front lines next month, for better or for worse. olivia’s met somebody, she thinks she’s found the one. kyle listens, but pays especially close attention when it gets to be your turn.
“how was your trip?” sammy asks, and you laugh, albeit nervously.
“weird.” you admit, profoundly. “first vacation i’ve ever taken in my whole fuckin’ life, y’know? i tried to enjoy it, but— my friends wanna go swimming with dolphins, and tan on the beach, and, whole time, i’m thinkin’ that i’ve got no goddamn business flouncing around in a bathing suit, looking the way i do. i just couldn’t wait for it to be over, honestly.”
and, fuck, he gets it. he knows. it’s the very thing he’s been grappling with for the past year. nobody likes to talk about that part, the doubt, the insecurity. but you do, honest and unapologetic, and he wonders if this is what making peace with it looks like.
and then, sammy looks to him. “anything you’d like to share with us today, kyle?”
usually, he’d wave her off. offer her a tight-lipped smile and shake his head. he almost does, if only out of sheer habit. but he catches your gaze from across the circle. your eyes brighten with recognition, and the hard set of your brow softens. you smile at him, a little crookedly, as if you’re eighteen again, unburdened, naive as to what awaits you.
you might as well have grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him around, the way that smile knocks loose all of the things he’s allowed to fester in his heart. for the first time since he started attending the meetings, kyle’s honest. not only with this motley community he has infiltrated, but with himself.
“i had to take all the mirrors outta my flat. couldn’t stand the sight of myself.”
“i always wanted kids, but now— now, i’m scared they’d think me the fuckin’ boogeyman.”
“i dunno who i am anymore.”
his lungs feel tight, his palms slick with sweat, cheeks warm with an awful, feverish sort’ve heat, but he feels lighter than he has since his brothers dragged him from the wreckage. the old man from that first meeting, colby, lays a hand on his shoulder and squeezes.
no one scoffs at him, or calls him petty, or reminds him of how lucky he is. sammy smiles, soft and empathetic. “sometimes, the man who comes back from the war isn’t the same man that left for it. it’s okay to mourn him, kyle.”
you’re waiting for him, standing on the sidewalk outside, stiff with an indefinite, inescapable ache, but smiling still, when it’s time to leave. he hesitates only momentarily when you open your arms for a hug — he’s careful, weary of whatever injuries you might’ve sustained on the field, but you grab him tight, like you know how desperately he needs it.
“s’good to see you, garrick. s’been a long time.”
“fuck, has it.” he laughs, and it sounds foreign in his own ears, before sobering. “it’s good to see you too. really. i didn’t know you were …”
“yeah,” you help him out before he can start floundering. he isn’t the smooth-talker he once was. “a couple years ago, now. s’a long story. one i’m much too sober to tell today.”
“another time then,” he offers, wryly. he understands. he doesn’t like to talk about it either. talking about requires thinking about it, which isn’t good for anyone involved.
you soften, and he watches the scar on your face stretch as your lips pull down. it’s been years, but he still thinks you lovely. “you haven’t been out long, have you?”
“not long enough, no.”
“hm.” you nod, like you understand, but you don’t say you’re sorry, or tell him that it’ll get better. he appreciates that more than you know. “fate’s a funny thing, ain’t it? what’re the odds,”
“it’s a small fuckin’ world,” he murmurs, and your laugh thaws the ice in his chest. “you live close by?”
“just a couple o’ blocks, not too bad.”
“i could walk with you, if you want. or we could—” he stops, swallows hard, trying valiantly to find his nerve. it used to be so easy for him to ask a sweet someone out, he hardly even had to work for it. hell, he’d flirted with you plenty, back in the day. “we could go get that drink,”
it’s soft, uncertain, timid in a way that kyle garrick is not. you simply stare at him for a moment, as if considering him, your gaze painfully soft, before, finally, “i’d like that.”
“yeah?” he murmurs, hopeful.
you laugh, but it isn’t mocking, or cruel. it’s mirthful, almost flattered.
tags: dom bottom older reader, (very light) fauxcest, dad/son fauxcest, needy and whiny john...yummers, sub top john, set in s2 i think, uninterested and cold reader but he still lets homelander hit, oral (reader receiving) reader is vought’s second in charge, overstimulating john!!! yayy!!
autor's note: this was kind of a mix of two similar requests i got hehe one of them being from @p3rvted <3 love u platonically!!
NSFW UNDER THE CUT
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟
The boardroom at Vought Tower was as sterile and oppressive as ever. You sat at the head of the long table, second only to Stan Edgar himself, reviewing quarterly projections with the kind of detached precision that had earned you your position. After Madelyn Stillwell’s death, the company needed stability. You provided it— cold, calculating, and utterly uninterested in the theatrical nonsense that surrounded Homelander and the rest of The Seven.
You had never been impressed by Homelander.
Not when he was a lab-grown golden boy throwing tantrums, not when he slaughtered his way through rivals, and certainly not now, as he paced behind your chair like a caged animal while you signed off on budget reports.
“Hey.” He said, voice tight with that boyish need he tried so hard to hide. “You’ve barely looked at me all week.”
You didn’t even glance up. “I’ve been busy, John. Some of us actually run this company instead of playing dress-up for cameras.”
The other executives shifted uncomfortably. No one spoke to Homelander like that. No one except you.
He stopped pacing. You could feel the heat of his gaze on the back of your neck. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”
You sighed, looking at Stan Edgar for...permission, closing your folder when he smiled. “Fine. Everyone out.”
The room emptied in seconds. When the door clicked shut, Homelander was on you instantly — dropping to his knees beside your chair, hands gripping your thigh with barely-restrained desperation.
“Please.” He whispered, voice cracking. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. Everyone’s afraid of me. They worship me, but they don’t love me. Not like you could. Just…give me something. Anything.”
You looked down at him — America’s greatest hero, reduced to begging at your feet. A small, amused smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.
“Pathetic.” You said coolly, but there was no real cruelty in it. Just observation. “The great Homelander on his knees for an old man who doesn’t even like him.”
He whimpered—actually whimpered, pressing his face against your thigh. “I know you don’t. But I need you. Please, I’ll do anything.”
You sighed again, running a hand through his perfect golden hair. You knew how dangerous he was when denied. Better to give him this small mercy than risk one of his tantrums destroying half the tower.
“Fine, kid.” You said, voice detached. “My house. Tonight. Don’t make me regret this.”
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟
Your private residence was a sleek, minimalist penthouse far from Vought Tower. No cameras. No security that could be bought. Just silence and control.
Homelander arrived exactly on time, cape discarded, looking more like a lost boy than a hero.
You were already on the couch, legs spread confidently, nursing a glass of whiskey. Older, experienced, and completely unbothered by the most powerful being on the planet standing nervously in your living room.
“Strip.” You ordered calmly.
He obeyed instantly, peeling off the suit with trembling hands until he stood naked before you, cock already half-hard from anticipation.
You took a slow sip of whiskey, eyes raking over him with mild amusement. “Look at you. So eager. So needy. C'mon, boy, sit.”
He dropped to his knees between your legs without hesitation. You set the glass aside and unzipped your pants, you were already wet, maybe from the twisted nature of it all.
“C'mon, kid, get to work.”
Homelander leaned in eagerly, lapping at your cunt with a desperate moan. He was sloppy, overeager, trying too hard to please. You threaded your fingers through his hair, guiding him with firm but detached control.
“Easy.” You murmured, voice cool. “You’re supposed to be a god, not a desperate whore. Slow down.”
He whimpered around you, trying to obey, tears already pricking the corners of his eyes. You watched him with that same slight, amused smile, the expression of a man who knew exactly how much power he held.
When you were bored of his inexperience, you pulled him off your pussy, he made a squeaky sound, like a dog being stepped on.
You thought he looked a lot like a puppy right now.
“On the couch.”
He scrambled up, lying obediently. You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, and sank down onto his cock in one smooth motion.
Homelander gasped, hands flying to your thighs. “Fuck— Dad, you’re so—”
You froze for half a second.
“Dad? God, Vought really did a number on you...and be quiet.” You said, starting to ride him with slow, confident rolls of your hips. “You don’t speak unless I tell you to, don't want you blabbering nonsense.”
He nodded frantically, biting his lip to stay silent. His hands trembled on your thighs as you used him, riding him exactly how you wanted— deep, controlled, merciless in your detachment.
“Look at you.” You said softly, almost conversationally, as if commenting on the weather. “The most powerful man alive, whimpering under an old man who barely tolerates him. Pathetic.”
Homelander moaned brokenly, hips twitching up desperately. Tears slipped down his cheeks. “Please, I need you— I need this…”
You leaned down, gripping his jaw roughly. “I know you do. That’s why you’re here. Now be a good boy and shut up.”
You rode him harder, faster, chasing your own pleasure while he fell apart beneath you. He came first, with a loud, broken cry, filling you with hot pulses while sobbing your name.
You didn’t stop.
You kept riding him through his orgasm, overstimulating him until he was whimpering and shaking, fresh tears streaming down his face.
“Too much, dad, please— I can’t—”
“You can.” You said calmly, still moving. “And you will, son, until I’m satisfied.”
You made him cum twice more before you finally let yourself finish, clenching around him as you rode out your own orgasm with a quiet, controlled sigh and a low groan.
When it was over, Homelander was a wreck — tear-streaked, trembling, cock still buried deep inside you. He clung to you desperately, face pressed against your chest.
“Thank you.” He whispered, voice small and broken, boyish even. “Thank you for wanting me...even a little.”
You stroked his hair once, almost absentmindedly, still maintaining that cool, detached expression.
“Don’t get used to it, John.” You said quietly. “This was a one time mercy.”
But even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t true.
Homelander looked up at you with those wide, adoring, desperate blue eyes, and you felt the smallest flicker of something dangerously close to affection.
You sighed.
“Stay the night.” You said, still sounding bored. “But don’t make noise. I have an early meeting.”
He nodded eagerly, clinging tighter, already hardening again inside you.
Can you do some overstim with ftm char... Maybe the cutie house husband or someone else. Holding up a vibrator to his clit and making him cum over and over again ❤️
enter— your misbehaving boyfriend !!
status: edited + proofread
synopsis: ^^^
word count: 1.8k
cw: porn with no plot, GN reader, FTM char (AFAB terminology used), dom!reader, sub char!, masochist char, mean reader, established relationship, overstimulation, toys (vibrator wand), multiple orgasms, crying, physical restraint/bondage, neglect play
note: so sorry for the long wait! quite a few things happened for me over the span of the last couple of days. anyhow, hope you enjoy.
you lounge on the couch, thumb idly flicking through your feed, the blue glow of your screen painting shifting patterns on the ceiling. every so often, you glance over your phone—just to catch the sight of him sprawled awkwardly on the floor, limbs at odd angles, chest heaving as he tries to steady his breath. his hair is sticking to the sweat on his forehead, and his entire body trembles with sensation; you are responsible for that.
soft, desperate mewls tug at your attention.
his knees dig into the floor, thighs shaking with the strain of holding still, toes curling into the carpet in search of something to ground him. the real show, though, is the mess you’ve made of him: frog-tied, legs bent, and ankles lashed to his thighs, arms trussed behind his back so he’s forced wide open, helpless and exposed. there’s nowhere for him to go, not when you have him like this.
the rope bites into his skin, leaving deep, angry impressions, making every twitch force his folds apart even wider—so wide you can see the way his hole pulses and leaks.
you went a step further—strips of tape stretch him open, adhesive biting into the delicate skin at the edges of his folds. they force his lips wide, exposing every glistening contour, every vulnerable line, the soft pink of his insides stretched to the brink. parted so far you can see the eager, shining slick pooling at his center.
each shudder wrings more slick from him, thick and sticky, painting wet streaks down his thighs and soaking the carpet below. he’s making a mess and he can’t help it—can’t stop it, not with you watching, not tied up and spread open like this.
his clit juts out, swollen and flushed a furious pink, throbbing in the cool air, so sensitive that even the slightest draft of air seems to make him jolt. every twitch of his hips, every humiliating spasm, makes it jump some more, forces another helpless squirm. the skin is puffy, glistening with slick and tears—so overworked it looks bruised, trembling on the edge of another wave. the rope digs in further with every quiver, holding him so obscenely wide you can see everything. maybe it’s a bit much, you admit, but you can’t bring yourself to regret it.
you take a moment just to look at him, how ruined he is, entrance flushed and swollen from your (in)attention, rim glistening with arousal and a new swell of slick. the folds tremble, held so brutally apart by your handiwork, while the base of a heavy vibrator wand is wedged mercilessly against his exposed spot. the head is pressed snug, its low, relentless hum rattling through his core, making his thighs jerk and his fingers curl uselessly behind his back. you watch him shudder, broken noises spilling from his slack mouth.
the vibrations are deep and ruthless, rumbling straight through his pelvis, making his thighs want to clamp shut, and his breath catch on a whimper.
every so often, you lean over, reaching out to nudge the wand back into position, pressing it even more firmly against his clit for good measure. there’s no escape for him, not with the rope and tape holding him wide and the toy unceasing. sometimes you do it without a thought, just wanting something else to keep your hands busy, brushing against his wetness, never looking up from your phone, letting his whining and the noises made from his needy cunt fade into the background.
he tries to brace himself against the onslaught of his angry bundle of nerves, but his muscles just seize and relax in helpless rhythm, his whole body jerking through each wave of pleasure and shame.
that is, most of the time, you don’t even have to lift a finger—he does it to himself, thrashing and twitching, the toy shifting minutely from his involuntary jerks or the tautness of the tape. every spike in sensation makes his thighs quake, his whole body shudders, and moans spill from him whether he wants them to or not.
it’s relentless: every few minutes, you watch as another orgasm wracks his body, his hips jerking and his voice breaking into ragged, desperate sobs. the wand never lets up, true to its design, its merciless buzzing pressed to his most sensitive spot without pause, even as his body shakes with the aftershocks of his last. there's no reprieve, no time to catch his breath—just the endless, overwhelming sensation that has him teetering on the edge between pleasure and madness.
his body trembles violently with each release, resembling intermittent seizures—thighs clenching and back arching as he writhes helplessly, unable to stop the spasms that shake him apart, each one more intense then the last.
the first orgasm was sharp and overwhelming, his entire body seizing as the wave crashes through him, a guttural cry escaping as his hips buck uncontrollably. a gush of cum spilling from his entrance, wetting the tape some more and glistening in the light, droplets running down his thighs, drooling over his hole, or pooling beneath his trembling body. his folds twitch and flutter, stretched wide and exposed, the swollen rim pulsing with each aftershock. you watch as his inner walls do the same, flushed dark with arousal, the tape holding him open so every orgasm is on display for your amusement—if that.
the second one came even faster, his body barely recovering before the relentless vibration rips another orgasm from him. this time, his sobs are louder, legs kicking weakly against the floor, thighs trembling as his muscles tense and relax in rapid succession. his entrance clenches tight around nothing, the gush of his creamy cum even messier, leaking white steadily onto the carpet, his rim throbbing with raw, over-sensitized nerves.
by the third, his voice is hoarse, pleas dissolving into broken moans turned into cries of pain. he tries to twist away from the toy, but the restraints hold him tight, forcing him to take every surge of pleasure. his body convulses, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks as he begs for mercy, the tape biting deeper as he bucks helplessly against the unyielding stimulation. his hole, never given the chance to close, each orgasm leaving him more raw and sensitive than the last, his body shivering with exhaustion from the overstimulation.
he’s sobbing now—shameless, broken noises pouring from his lips, his whole body rocking with the force of it. the room is filled with the cacophony of his cries, sobs, and whimpers, each one rising in pitch and urgency as the sensation grows. it’s so loud you’d think it would be impossible to ignore. you barely glance up, letting his desperate pleas blend into the background with the relentless hum of the toy and the buzz of your phone. tears streak down his cheeks, mingling with sweat, his chest hitching with every ragged gasp. his voice is raw, each plea more frantic than the last as he begs—“please—please, I can’t—” the words dissolve into another broken sob as another climax rips through him. “please, stop it, just for a second—please, it’s too much—” his voice is thick with tears, pleading, desperate, a string of “i can’t, i can’t, please, just a break, i need—i need—” until he’s lost in the sensation again, body wracked by another shuddering orgasm, reduced to a trembling, weeping mess, with all matter of soggy expulsions running down his face, completely at your feet.
he can’t move away—he’s trapped, forced to endure every wave of pleasure, every overwhelming climax, every humiliating sob to the point of numbness.
the room is filled with the constant, needy sound of the toy, the wet, broken edge of his breathing, and the occasional, sharp clink of the cuffs as he shifts helplessly.
he shoots you a pleading look, his eyes are glossy, a faint sheen of sweat dotting his brow, the flush on his cheeks now spreading down his neck. his chest rises and falls in uneven, shallow breaths. you just smirk, pretending not to notice as you swipe past another video that fell onto your for you page, your indifference making his blush deepen—a visible pulse throbbing at his throat.
he squirms, his hips jerking involuntarily as the vibrations make him shudder, his thighs clenching and unclenching as he tries in vain to close his legs. the tape and wand ensure complete exposure and utter helplessness, his entrance twitching and leaking with every surge of sensation. he whimpers softly, body curled and trembling, desperation mounting with every passing second.
you sigh, finally setting your phone aside, letting it drop onto the armrest with a soft thud. “need something? what are you whining for?” you ask, your voice dripping with amusement as you look him over.
he huffs, cheeks flushed a deep red, lashes damp as he bites down hard on his trembling lower lip to keep from embarrassing himself further by moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear. his chest quivers with every shallow breath, and his thighs tremble as he presses himself into the floor, desperate for any kind of relief.
he seemed preoccupied. you simply arch an eyebrow. you don’t even bother conjuring up something resembling sympathy.
maybe you’ll keep him waiting a little longer. watching him struggle—his shoulders shaking, toes curling, eyes, which were half-rolled back showing the whites, flashing with sparks—as he tries to keep more bulbous tears from tumbling down his face, is almost as satisfying as anything else.
you lean back, reassuming your grip on your phone, letting your gaze linger momentarily on the trembling line of his back, the way his spine arches, and his hips twitch in a futile attempt to escape the overstimulation before ripping them away as his breath came in short, ragged gasps, punctuated by broken whimpers that fill the room.
you continue to ignore his desperate, pleading noises, eyes fixed on your screen as he writhes helplessly. you force him to find release again and again, pretending to be utterly uninterested in his plight—each orgasm wracking his body with fresh waves of exhaustion and sensitivity, his cries muffled by your disinterest.
though, now that you’re thinking about it, you should probably schedule an appointment to drop off your carpet at the dry cleaners.
The game, or whatever the fucked up dynamic that had bloomed and constantly reared its head to play out between them was called, had captured both men once again and Butcher hated how trapped his stiff cock felt against his jeans as he glared down at the blonde kneeling submissively between his feet.
"Way I see it, you have two choices here, cunt. You can either beg nicely for ol' Billy to sort you out right good, or you can keep that hole of yours all locked up and I think I'll just shoot off in your face and scamper. What'd ya think?"
His face flush with predatory arousal, every feature narrowed and sharp with the exception of his mouth as it hung slack with unchecked need, Homelander seemed incapable of verbalising any decision on his part as his words struggled to escape a rapidly-swallowing throat.
"I said," Butcher continued, lifting his heavy boot from the ground and placing the thick tread atop the unmistakable tent of Homelander's groin, "I wanna hear it. Don't tell me some cunt's got your tongue now. Can't shut you the fuck up most of the time."
The pressure of Butcher's leather boot pressing down on his neglected cock was almost too much for Homelander and his spine curled forward as he barely restrained the urge to buck his hips into the rough touch like a desperate whore.
"I could kill you."
His voice coming out an octave higher than he would have liked, Homelander licked his tongue sharply across his chapped lips. Inhaling, the woody scent of fresh sweat and cheap colonge made his head spin - the masculine smell of Butcher only tainted by the nasty aroma of some medicated balm that he had slathered some part of himself in.
Butcher, in fair response to the death threat, only pushed his boot down harder at the hissed words and Homelander couldn't hold back the stuttering growl which slipped free of his lips as his brow fell into an open scowl, anger and arousal warring for dominance of his handsome features.
"Sorry, what? Couldn't hear ya over the sound of you moaning like a cheap slag who puts out her hole for a packet of fags and some bacardi breezers."
Not really sure what those were, Homelander's expression flicked with confusion for a moment before falling into undisguised arousal once more as Butcher dropped to his haunches before him and replaced the stiff tread of his boot with his palm - his fingers cupping at Homelander's cock with so much pressure that it would have made a lesser man scream.
"Beg." Butcher repeated, his thick brows also furrowed into a scowl that brooked no argument as he savagely squeezed at Homelander's cock, knowing that the supe could take whatever he dished out.
Homelander, gasping and shuddering as his spine curled further forward with the discomfort, did exactly as told while a hot flush of shame painted his neck a lovely pink colour.
"Please."
Feigning ignorance, Butcher used his free hand to cup at his ear. "What was that?"
"William, please."
Using the familiar name, one so often dripping his absolute contempt for the arrogant fuck, Homelander winced at the total lack of any malice as he listened to his own whining plead.
"Please what? Don't tell me all that v running through your veins has made you stupid as all fuck. Let's hear it for daddy, sweetheart."
"Please, touch me." Homelander growled, the humiliation only adding to the painful arousal of his cock as his length twitched in Butcher's merciless hand. "Pull my cock out and, fuck, touch me. Please."
Surprisingly, Butcher complied and Homelander groaned as his cock was quickly snatched free of his suit and exposed to the cool air. Bearing only the slightest of reddened marks from where Butcher had dug his fingers in, his cock stood proudly as it jutted free of the healthy blonde pubes which ringed its base.
"Harder than an elephants tusk, eh? Well, ain't that a shame."
"William." Snapping the name like a slur, the slightest hint of amber flexed in the steely blue depths of Homelander's eyes as he once more was the subject of Butcher's humiliation. "If you don't-"
Forcing two of his fingers into Homelander's mouth, the action forcing Homelander to cough and flex his tongue against the thick invaders as his words were cut short, Butcher pressed his digits down until Honelander had relaxed past his initial panic.
"Shut the fuck up, pretty boy."
With a cheshire grin, Butcher indulged himself. His fingers keeping their iron grip against Homelander's jaw and tongue, his other hand circled around the base of Homelander's cock - fingers squeezing together roughly as he rubbed his dry hand along the length. It wasn't supposed to be bliss, his harshness and lack of lube making the friction almost painful, but Homelander writhed in place as his hips jerked of their own accord to push himself harder into Butcher's fist.
"That's right, fuck yourself daft, lad. It's all you'll be getting from me."
Butcher hissed the words, his head feeling light from just the sheer amount of power which thrunned through his veins as he held this dangerous creature in the palm of his hand. Literally. His own cock felt painfully trapped, every slight shift of his body making his length brush against the inside of his jeans like a lovers tease.
Oh, fuck this.
"I'm going to pull my fingers free of your mouth." Butcher explained, loosening his grip of Homelander's cock enough to allow the other man to pick up the pace slightly - a few strands of his blonde hair having fallen across his damp forehead. "And then I'm gonna replace them with something much bigger and almost as clean. If I catch even a brush of those teeth then I'll rip your cock off with my bare hands and use it to hang my bathroom towels. You hear me?"
Eyes glazed and dulled, his willful submission sending him to a docile place which made him a much more agreeable cunt than anything Butcher could hope for, Homelander nodded around his fingers and whined as Butcher's hand left his cock.
Butcher's hands were as steady as a surgeons as he stood to unzip his fly and a fresh smirk settled on his chapped hips as he set about giving the maniac who knelt at his knees something to really chew on.
thinking abt him getting choked- reader pressing their fingers into his pulse points making his head swim, his grip loosening the longer they choke him. maybe reader would force him to look at them while they did it?
fuck he’s so sexy <33
thank u so much!!!
i feel like masochistic¡clark’d totally be into that and not even sexually. like he’d see r having a bad day or something and he’d offer himself up like a sacrificial lamb like “pls im yours i love you do whatever you want”
i imagine him on the couch, r on his lap, hands just tight around his neck, thumbs digging into his pulse points just to feel how his heart rate quickens, and of course he’s hard as a rock the whole time and r never does anything about it, not even a little grind over his bulge, wanting him to suffer. and then r would make him keep eye contact the entire time, just venting about how shitty their day was, or how much they wanna hurt clark, or telling him how worthless and pathetic he is. it turned him on all the same.
he’d always try to speak through it, too. always trying to praise r. “i love you,” “i’m yours,” “hurts so good,” and each word would make r tighten their grip, as if trying to get him to shut up, which was just what masochistic clark wanted.
it’d always end with that glassy look in his eyes, his grip on r’s hips going nonexistent, his pretty tongue lolling out, and then his head ceremoniously thumping back onto the couch as he was out cold. he’d be awake in no less than an hour, and the bruises that had bloomed on his neck would be gone by tomorrow, but he’d never forget.
fuckkkk i love masochistic clark send me reqs or thots a girl is horned out
PLEASE IM BEGGING I desperately need ftm reader x mark PLEASEEE
I love you, hoe.
• Sub! Mark grayson x FTM! Dom! Toxic male reader•
!warning! Mild Toxic relationship, post break up mark (w eve) (yes porn with very little plot), dialogue heavy at the start, pussy worshipping (reader receiving), cunnilingus (reader receiving), mild pet play (puppy! Mark), degradation and praises, begging, desperate mark.
Authors's note:
- 1.4K words
- this one is pretty dialogue heavy at the start
- not beta read again 😻 and english is not my first language. Anw enjoy!
- idk im kinda a fan of this plot maybe i should make more lmao
Would you ever love someone like me? Like me.
You saw him out there, saving people- civilians he doesn’t even know. Risking his life for people he doesn’t know. It’s selfish, but you can’t help but ponder and ask, why does it hurt to love someone loved by many? He was supposed to be yours, but after all the time you’ve picked up the pieces, to feel him leaving your grasp just wasn’t fair.
“Did you see me on the news?” Mark asked when he landed right on your balcony, still in his Invincible suit, his expression bright, his eyes shine with love for you.
You paused, you didn’t know how to respond without the bitterness stuck in your throat.
“Yeah… I saw.”
It came out rougher than you anticipated. Mark’s smile dropped instantly when he sensed the bitterness in your tone. He unmasked himself when he was in your apartment, his fingers fiddling with the mask in his hand.
“…What?” Mark asked, his voice soft and strained at the same time. He knew you never accept his Invincible identity, seeing invincible and mark grayson as seperate being.
“Nothing… just–” You stopped. This was a recipe for an argument, so you sighed in defeat, you didn’t want to hurt him and argue again and again. “Nevermind.”
“No– tell me.”
Mark’s voice was rough as his eyes narrowed. “Is this about Invincible again?” Mark asked. He had gotten used to referring to himself and Invincible as separate entities when talking to you, it hurts him deeply that you dont accept that side of him–the one he thinks is the best part of who he is.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your brows furrowed as well, It was rare to see Mark snapping at you but it seemed like today is one of those days despite your hesitancy earlier. “You know what I mean. You never approved of me saving people out there.” he retorted at you, his tone now laced with venom.
“You’re making it sound like I’m a bad guy–”
“well– if the shoes fit.”
Your eyes narrowed in anger, you clench your teeth and you could feel rage fuming in you quite like never before. “forgive me that I’m upset when my boyfriend is risking his life–forgive me that I’m upset that I might lose my boyfriend whenever he wore his suit.”
“Why can’t you be more supportive? I’m trying to make the world a better place for us.” his voice crack, he was beyond upset with you right now.
“Well maybe you should be with someone more supportive.” you shouted at him in anger.
“Well I left her for you!”
There was a long pause between you and him. Mark’s eyes widen and his breath hitched. His hands quickly tried to latch onto you, as his expression grew uncertain. He didn't say it yet, but you could tell it was ‘i didn't mean to’. You pulled your arm away from his grasp.
“…So what? You’re saying you regret this? Us?”
“…No–! Fuck– you know I don’t mean that–”
You storm off to the bedroom, kicking the door close behind you. How could he say that? The nerve he has when you have been trying to better your relationship with his hero gig. You rub your face with your palm, groaning in between, you're not sure if you were mad at him, or the circumstances. You could hear mark banging on the door, shouting “babe im sorry-! Babe please please..!”
It rarely ever get this bad, but you were upset and he was too. You sat down at the edge of the bed and let out a sigh. Best if you were to just calm down, he'll give up soon enough–
BAM!
The door's hinge broke. Mark being the obvious perpetrator, he looks surprised as you are when the door was in his hand, no longer attached to the wall.
“Mark what the fuck??” You shouted at him, you raise your hand in disbelief. “i-im sorry, I'll fix this later i swear i just-..” he placed the door on the side, looking guilty as ever before approaching you on the bed, you raised a brow wondering what hes intending to do. You crossed your arms and waited.
Just then he got on his knees in front of you, in between your thigh. “Im sorry” he muttered before resting his head on your thigh, “please, i didnt mean..” his eyes glistening, his mouth curled upward like a pout. “Ugh get up, mark” If you weren't mad right now, you'd definitely smother him with kisses. Those puppy eyes only lessened your anger by the minute but you must stay strong!
Mark shook his head and remained on his knees, just for you. He looked up at you like you hung the moon and stars. “I'm sorry, baby.. “ he muttered again, grabbing your hand and kissing your palm softly “.. i shouldn't have– i just.. i really love you and i want to be the best for you” he said, his eyes staring elsewhere, unable to meet your eyes in shame. “I want you to love me always. All of me.”
“.. its whatever mark” you muttered, your hand ran through his hair. You couldn't bring yourself to be mad at your puppy for long. He close his eyes, basking in your touch before opening it again.
“it's not.. please let me make it up to you?” he whispered, eyes shining, his lips still pouting before he lowered his head down and his teeth tugging on the zipper of your pants
.
You held your phone in your right hand, scrolling mindlessly. Your other hand tugging on mark's hair to keep him in line. Mark’s face was buried deep in your cunt, his eyes glistening and too drunk on pleasure to care. He laps at your cunt non stop, sucking at the nub, trying to draw out even a little noise of pleasure from you. You closed your eyes “mmh” you moaned, thigh closing against him slightly, causing you to drop your phone. Hearing your moan was enough to soak Mark’s boxer. “dont waste a drop, pup” you ordered him, tugging on his hair as you bit your lip. He kisses each inch he could reach in your folds
Mark nodded vigorously as he suckle on your clit, his tongue lapping at the juices flowing out of your heat. “Mm, thank you baby.. thank you so much..” he moan against your cunt. You cant help but chuckle at his desperation, you pulled his hair again which earned a groan from him. “Such a fucking addict aren't you?”
“Yes yes~! Im soo drunk on your pussy, baby, please please let me taste it again, im such a pussy junkie for you.” mark chase after his high, his hip thrusting the air. The thought of making you feel good was enough to drove him to his high, cumming untouched in his boxers.
You clicked your tongue and tugged his head down and force him to breath in your musk, “such a naughty pup, aren't you? Cumming without permission..” mark moaned out loud and began leaving open mouthed kisses against your heat. “M’ sorry.. sho sho sor-sorry“ he stuttered, mind to fucked out to care. “are you?” you groan aloud when he shove his tongue inside of your pussy. Drawing out juices from and he eagerly drink every drop. “M’ close...” you muttered, your thigh squeezing his head. Mark was convinced he's in heaven at that point.
He lift you up effortlessly and switch the position so you're riding his face. “Fuck-! Hah.. so eager for my cum arent you?” You chuckled, mark voice were muffled as he was too busy soaking in the taste of your pussy. “In my mouth pleash pleashh babe~!” he begged. And who are you to deny his wishes?
You lower yourself more and begin moving, smothering his face with your wetness. Mark moaned each time you moved your hip, his mouth chasing your cunt. You were incredibly close. When mark suckled on your clit. You squirted all over his face with reckless abandon. “Mmmgh~! Drink it all, pup~” you retorted. Your fingers digging into mark's scalp. Mark moan in delight and eagerly drink his spend.
When you lift yourself up, Mark’s face looks.. beyond pornographic. His eyes were rolled back, his mouth hanging open. He was truly pussy drunk, and he's not stopping soon judging from the way he's holding your hips in place. You snorted at the expression hes making.
- very rush AND Not beta read we die like my will to live 🙏 (feel free to lmk if theres any mistake)
- English is not my first language so expect some horrendous grammar error lol
- I haven't written in a while, so im incredibly rusty, last fic i did was back in mesapotamian time
Saving people is an everyday thing for Mark, there wasn't anything new. Kaiju monster? Defeat them. Debris falling? Swoop in and save the civilians. None of the civilians ever gave him something to write home about or stayed in the back of his mind long enough to be a problem.
Until he met you.
It wasn't anything special; he just had swept you off your feet when the debris was falling, but your presence alone was enough to make him crazy. As soon as he placed you in safety, when you left the warmth of his hand, he felt empty. His hand almost chased after you when you left his grasp but he had to stop himself from making a scene. You had no idea the essence you had engraved in his mind, Mark could only tell himself to ‘calm down’ when he could smell your cologne in his palm. He had to rush home as soon as possible.
He landed straight in front of his house and hurried upstairs, ignoring Debbie's call asking “whats wrong, Mark?" Mark could only exclaim “I'm fine! I just need to do something!”
As soon as he got to lock the door behind him, he had undressed himself off his suit in immaculate speed, except his gloves. The only one that has your scent and cologne stuck to. Mark laid down comfortably on his bed, he was inexperienced with sex overall. He wasn't that good of a kisser either, masturbation might be his only strong suit. After all, he's able to rub his cunt at any speed he wishes, his fingers are average size. Good enough to make him cum from time to time.
His boxer was already soaked. He was surprised it didn't bleed through his suit. He slips his left hand inside his underwear, too shy to even undress properly, letting out a silent “mmh- mm” when his fingers start rubbing his nub. He had to be mindful of his sounds, he didn't want to be caught again. Mark starts sniffing and basking in the faint scent of you on his right gloves. “Ahh..” he moaned softly when he could feel more juices coming out from between his folds. He let out a whimper when he felt that sharp tingly feeling in his cunt. He rubbed himself faster, started imagining your presence- if you're here in his room, watching him.
“Such a fucking loser” you said
Mark moaned louder, his thighs squished together.
“You're pathetic.” You spoke, tone laced with venom, at least that's how Mark imagined you'd say it. His middle finger trying to probe himself open when- he creamed all over the sheet.
‘That was embarrassing’ he thought. He at least took 5 minutes before cumming and even so he had to pull out some sort of videos to watch but the thought of you and your scent had made him cum in no time. The idea made Mark squeeze his thigh together again. “.. im such a fucking loser..”
But the acknowledgement didn't stop him one bit.
The thought and the idea that you might one day catch him, with all his perverted doings, it was enough to be his masturbation material.
3 months. He couldn't get you out of his head. He couldn't stop rubbing himself. It was most embarrassing during the lecture, how he had to excuse himself and head to the bathroom at least once to finger himself, imagining you. The glove he had worn that day never left his bagpack, he had to bring it, just basking in the musk of it soaked his boxer. William had questioned him a few times “why do you keep going to the bathroom, dude?” , and Mark couldn't even give an honest answer. How does he say he's jerking off in a public bathroom to a guy he doesn't even know to his best friend?
Mark had patrolled the city more often than he should, the same place he had saved you that day, over and over again. Just for a slight chance that you might show up. It was much to Cecil's dismay, something about “causing anxiety in civilians”. It was obsessive really, there's even conspiratorial article about how apparently there's something the government is not telling the public after seeing THE invincible flying around nonstop
So patrolling was out of the picture for a while. His glove no longer held your scent, even when he refused to wear and wash them, fearing that it might disappear too soon. Mark tried to find another way, asking William about it, trying his best to describe you to the best of his ability. He even went on random social media, typing what he guessed your name would be and scroll for hours.
Perhaps that day, the stars and planets had aligned just for him.
He spotted you at the college's party.
It was his golden opportunity. Seeing you on the dancefloor, he didn't know how fast he had headed for the door, how fast he flew to go back home to grab.. something. Something he's too embarrassed to keep with at his dorm so it remained in his closet - locked. Then he went back to the party, incredibly fast that you seemingly haven't moved an inch from the dance floor
He made his way through the dancing crowd, people grinding against one another. He couldn't careless, he was after you but his hope shattered when he saw somebody else now grinding against you. Some guy's ass grinding against your crotch and you drunkily thrusting too.
His body moved on itself. He pushed the guy you were grinding on to some other person and try his best to replace, hoping you wouldn't notice the difference or comment on it
“Woah” you mumbled, eyes heavy, but you were conscious enough to feel a big plump ass that's rubbing against your dick, eagerly might you add. “haven't seen you around before” you said trying to strike a conversation after seeing Mark's pathetic face. “yeah but I have.. seen you around,” Mark said, trying to keep his tone indifferent. He was gonna get you one way or another. “Is that supposed to be romantic?” you retorted, truth be told you didn't want to be mean but you can see how desperately he's grinding on you, ‘this guy really needs to get laid’ is all you could think of. Mark let out an awkward chuckle, he didn't know how else to respond. How can he say that he's been trying to reach you so you can fuck his brains out? The dance felt stiff more or less. You smirk and hold his hip in place, “so.. you've been eyeing me?” You asked. He tried stifling his moan with the back of his palm when he felt the shape of your length. Mark faces you, his hand clenching your shirt. ‘God i must look like so desperate right now’, the thought ran wild in Mark's mind.
“Would you want to fuck me less if I said yes?”
Mark asked, his eyes narrowing. You chuckled, he's odd but you find yourself appreciating his honesty. “Well I'm gonna need more drinks to even consider,” you insulted him, just to see if he would squirm and maybe give up. Or is he that desperate? You got your answer when you could hear a low whimper from him. Mark bit his lips, his eyes glistening just slightly.
“Please.. I can't stop thinking about you,”
You slip a sock onto the doorknob and kick the door close behind you. Mark eagerly lay on the bed on all four, shaking his hip, “hurry..” he begged. He was waiting for this moment, he had dreamed of this. You traced your hand over him, his figure, his childbearing hip. Then you pull off his pants and reveal the gift he had for you. Something Mark was so shy about that he couldn't bring it to his dorm and had to fly to his house to change.
You licked your lips.
It was a lacy black panties with little bows that fit him so perfectly.
"Look at that, did you stole from your mom or something?" You bit your lip as you tucked on his panties, hard. Mark moaned out loud when he felt the fabric stretch between his folds. Juices began gushing out of his eager cunt, who knows a wedgie could feel this good? You flipped him on his back before climbing on top of him, Mark bit his lip, a look of anticipation was all over his face. He tried squeezing his thigh shut suddenly growing shy when he could feel his juices overflowing and running down his thigh but you had placed both your hands to keep them open.
You slipped your hand inside his panties, feeling the wetness in between your fingers. Mark had tilted his head back when he felt the heaven sent that is your hand. “Ahh-! Please..”
It was enough to make you rock hard when he looked at you with the most puppy eyes you've seen. You lean down, biting on the string of his panties and pulling it down slowly, you bare your teeth clearly so he can see the show you've put on just for him. You earned a whimper from him but then his thigh shut between your face, squeezing your face. It took you by surprise but before you could properly process it, you felt him squirting all over your face. It was tangy- a bit sweet and salty.
“I'm so sorry! I.. im sorry i was too excited and i..” mark stuttered as he hurried to wipe the residue on your face. You held his wrist and made him watch as you lick it off your lips.
You pushed him back before unbelting your pants and finally freeing your member. It was rock hard and begging for mark at that point. Mark gulped down his saliva when he finally saw your member. Sure he has spent countless nights imagining this moment but nothing could prepare him for the real thing. It was an understatement to say he was impressed since he was practically drooling. “I've been really good” he said when he saw you lubing yourself. Hoping that it might please you, instead it makes you want to bully him more. “Have you?” You questioned with a smirk as you tapped your cock lightly against his thigh. He nods vigorously. Then when you finally probe your tip in between his folds, “mmgh- yes..!” mark cums the second time that night. His legs were slightly shaken as he creamed against your tip. You couldn't help but let out a scoff. Mark covered his face with the back of his palm, he was too embarrassed to say anything. Only letting out soft breathy moans. You were getting impatient yourself, you slowly rock your hip and pushing your cock inside his tight heat.
“Yes-!~ please please please”
Mark begged as his eyes rolled back, even when your cock barely inside, his toes were already curled. You let out a groan when your dick is fully inside and finally able to bottom out.
“M’ so full.. “ mark uttered under his breath, “yeah and fucking tight too” you said and give Mark's thigh a squeeze before finally moving.
“Faster~! Faster, faster! More!” The moan mark left aloud was beyond pornographic. At this point you might not get your fix from watching and reading porn anymore. his nails digging in your back, with his power he could have accidentally torn your shirt to shreds but mark seem to be conscious enough to hold back. When you finally found his g-spot, Mark let out a guttural moan as he came again. His juices flowing down your shaft and lubing it up. Your hips move faster than before as you were close to your own climax “inside~! Please inside, i wanna get fucking pregnant!”, you obeyed and finished inside him with a guttural moan of your own. “Mmh fuck yeah..”
You didn't know how long you had been thrusting in and out of him, but you feel your cum flowing out of his cunt, you had finished inside of him maybe thrice? Your legs were cramping already so you had to pull out, much to Mark's dismay. He whimpered when your tip finally left his fucked out pussy. “Mm, we can't be done yet..” Mark tugged your hand
“You sure have some crazy stamina,” you mumbled before plopping down next to him on the bed. “My legs are cramping, seriously” you groaned, your hand lightly massaging your leg. Mark didn't want to take that as an answer so in the end he climbed on top of you instead.“hey- you sure?” you asked, you seriously didn't want him to hurt himself in the process. Mark nodded and placed his legs on either side. His fucked out pussy on display and your cum slowly dribbling out of him. “I want to carry your babies..” he said, the face he's making is one of lust. He's obviously too drunk in his own horniness and you didn't seem to care all that much. “You're such a brainless slut” you commented. He grabbed both your hand and places them on his waist
“only for you.”
When he finally sinks down on your cock, your leftover cum from inside him gushes out like a fountain. Mark didn't care- he was too busy chasing his own pleasure. Lifting himself up and down and bouncing on your dick like a man possessed. “Fuck-! Yes right there!! You better put a baby in me-!”, he moaned. You were groaning, your hips unable to stay still and keep chasing after his pussy all the same. “Please~! Again~ I want it inside~!!” Mark came for nth time, anticipating your cum just made him so wet. When you did cummed in him once again, he was beyond delighted, his toes curling and his eyes rolling back. Finally, he fell to your side. His face was a mess, and his mind completely broke. He couldn't even close his legs properly causing your cum to dribble and pour out of him.
Your legs are still cramping after all that, but on the other hand.. you got a perfect fit of a cumdump.
summary. ever since you and tim got together, he’s been unable to keep his hands off of you (or his mind). and he doesn’t know why.
tags: subbottom!tim, top!reader. established relationship, roommate!reader (you and tim are in college), desperate!tim, oral sex (deepthroating), face-slapping (with dick), daddy kink, slight dumbification, mild degradation, barely there southern!reader, lots of spit (tim makes a mess)
wc: 917
a/n: baby’s first smut (that i’ve posted). any criticism or comments, just send them in! i hope you degenerates enjoy. also i don’t use ai, i just love me some commas and quotations. (update: ignore any errors you see, i made this at 4am)
Tim doesn’t like to think of himself as the desperate kind. He’s a mix between too prideful, and too self-deprecating to ever think himself the kind of guy to fall on his knees for someone, or find some random man or woman invading his mind. He thinks Dick is a much better fit for that type of yearning.
But that statement then begs the question of why. Why is he in the position he’s in now? Kneeling on the carpeted floor of your dorm, mouth wrapped around the biggest dick he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing in his life. Dark locks scrunched up in a tight fist as you used him like a toy.
You guys met about 8 months ago now. You, having been assigned as his new dorm mate, and Tim, being left angry that he no longer had his own room anymore. After all, who hadn’t heard all the horror stories of getting stinky roommates with hentai on his laptop, or the degenerate sex pests who kept you up at all hours of the night.
But shockingly enough: you were none of those.
Instead, he got a roommate who cleaned up after himself, smelled like the best aftershave in existence, and who gave Tim a stiffy doing the simplest of tasks. Again, Tim wasn’t the type to be desperate! Not at all!
He wasn’t desperate when he asked you out in that date with cherry red cheeks. He wasn’t desperate when you guys had your first kiss in a packed movie theater. So when did all of this happen? When did you turn him into a slut for cock?
If he could think about it right now, he knows he’d be so embarrassed. But being embarrassed wouldn’t even be a turn off at the moment. Instead, his brain is racing with the thought of how good you taste on his tongue; how he can feel the wetness of his own drool as it slides down the side of his chin to wet the collar of the shirt he stole from you. The loud, obscene sounds of him gagging every time your tip hits the back of his throat.
Above him, he can hear you chuckling. Or what seems to be a mix of a chuckle and a groan. Either way, knows his face can’t flush any redder than it already is.
“Aw, you havin’ fun down there, Timmy?” That drawl is enough to make his thighs clench together, big blues opening up to gaze above, a sheen of wetness over them like he was close to tears. Tim seemed to have no idea just how adorable he looked down there. And you didn’t mind reminding him.
“Yeah. Bet you are.” The hand gripping his hair forced him down until his nose was buried in an array of pubes, coughing and sputtering around the dick trying to train his throat open. Tim knows he’s making such a mess, but any thought about how much of a bitch this would be to clean melts when you slide out abruptly, leaving him panting for air.
A string of saliva follows, breaking to land on the slippery mess that’s coagulated with how long it’s been on the bottom of his face. Those dazed blue eyes go wide, Tim’s swollen bottom lip trembling slightly. “Wait—” But his attempt to speak is halted by your dick slapping against his red cheek, turning his protest into a shocked little yelp.
“Mm, you already made a mess. Might as well add, right?” And you move to slap it on his other cheek, watching long black lashes flutter as Tim practically sinks into the floor from the act. The boy tries to hide it, but you knew he was a cock slut the day you both met. He had that look to him. And you never seemed to be wrong about these things.
The boy’s face turns, placing open mouth kisses around the slick shaft as you slap it against swollen lips. The sight makes you twitch, which Tim clearly approves of based on his whimper of satisfaction. “Needy, needy boy. Just can’t get enough, can you?” As you speak, Tim subtly attempts to slide you back into his mouth, a desperate whine slipping out when you pull him back by his hair.
“That’s not how we ask for things, Timmy.” The condescension in your voice is enough to make Tim’s own cock throb hard in his jeans, just begging for a release he wasn’t gonna be getting tonight. Fuck, why did you have this effect on him? Why did he love it? Why did he let his mouth open, sticky with your precum, to mewl like a meek bitch, “Please, please, please—”
“Please, what?” It seemed your cruel streak wasn’t over yet, as the grip on his scalp tightened to the point he let out a gasp of pain (though he didn’t mind the sting), his knees aching from being on the floor for so long and his neck beginning to feel the same. All things he could ignore if you just put that fat dick right back where it belonged.
The ceiling light catches onto teary baby blues, a sight that would’ve had you buckling if not for Tim’s next words taking the cake. “Daddy, please. Please put your dick back in my mouth, I wanna taste your cum. I need to swallow all—“ Balls clap against his chin loudly as you force your way back inside, Tim’s throat immediately protesting the sudden intrusion with a hard gag. But his eyes? Those speak to your soul.
Use me, they plead. Use me until you can’t anymore.
Gaz finally runs from Price, escaping from the toxic cycle of an old man trapped in his own closet,
He had been too afraid to confront his sexuality, so he pushed gaz away until he couldn't bare the longing. When he did let gaz in, bringing him into his office late at night. He treated him too soft, too fragile. Like a woman who couldn't lift a hand. Not like the soldier he was.
Gaz finds himself at some shitty pub, drinking at the high stool,
That's where OldMan!Reader walks in.
Blunt with your words, buying him a drink and making it clear what you want.
It only takes about 10 minutes for you two to make it in the dirty, single bathroom.
You fuck him bent over the sink, calling him all sorts of harsh names.
It stings a bit, sure, but it's better than the gently praises Price would use, making him feel like he was something weak..
Price had spent all night searching for his boy, every pub in the city.
He walks into the one on the very edge of a bad neighborhood, watching as Gaz stumbles on unsteady feet out of the bathroom with your hand on his ass.
Seeing Gaz with another man is bad enough. But you? The man who broke Price back when he was just as fresh-faced and curious? How is he going to save him before he ends up with a crushed heart, if Gaz won't even look at him :(((
“i was considering having you top… think you could do that for me, pretty boy?” he’d whispered in your ear after a messy makeout on the bed.
“t-top? you mean like…?”
a chuckle. “i’ll ride you, beautiful.”
you couldn’t say no to him, anyway.
────✴︎─
you gripped his ass like a lifeline as he rocked on your lap with impossibly expert motions.
“oh, fuck— just like that, yeahhh…” you whined, guiding him with your hands. “where’d you learn to—nghh—ride dick like this, holy shit…”
his palms, sheen with sweat, supported himself on your heaving chest as he bounced up and down on your cock. you couldn’t even throw your head back; the sight of his (unnecessarily full) breasts moving with every thrust was too alluring to let go of.
you wouldn’t mind this becoming a habit.
“god, you’re so good—“ you could feel his precum dripping onto your abdomen, and the slight falter of his hips didn’t go past you. “let me cum, leon, please.”
“you wanna come inside me, baby?” he ground down onto your lap, harder now, taking both your breaths away. “gonna fill me up nice an’ good, yeah?”
“mmhmm, yeah, fuck, fuck me—!” he was so tight, how could he be so fucking tight? like he was squeezing you for all you were worth and more?
“m’working on it,” he groaned, fingers digging into your chest. even in a position like this, he didn’t lose his one-liners, it seems.
even if he was riding you like it was the last day of his goddamn life.
+18 mdni! 'i get wet at the thought of you being a responsible guy' with a very clueless bucky.
cw: responsible bucky!!!!, sub!bucky, dom!m!reader, multiple orgasms, missionary, idk this is silly
word count: 2.0k
a/n: HI omg im so sorry if this isnt as good as u guys expected but i swear its just a warm up piece 💔💔 i miss being motivated to write ANYWAYS please enjoy :3
you were out running errands when your phone buzzes.
bucky: ‘took care of the laundry. folded it too.’
bucky: ‘also unloaded the dishwasher.’
bucky: ‘watered the plants too. they looked thirsty.
you stop dead in the aisle, staring at the screen while a slow grin starts tugging at your mouth. your thumbs fly.
you: ‘you’re so fucking hot for that.’
he reads your message but doesn’t reply. is this guy seriously leaving you on read?
a beat.
bucky: ‘??? i just did some chores??’
you bite back a laugh, leaning against your cart.
bucky: ‘so, dinner. where do you wanna have it tonight?’
you: ‘nah. fuck dinner plans. i’m giving you a reward tonight.’
it takes him a good 5 minutes to reply this time. the dots flashing then disappearing like he’s hesitating.
bucky: ‘reward?’
you smirk, picturing his ears turning pink, the way his mind is probably running laps right now.
bucky: ‘come on, tell me. what kind of reward?’
you: ‘exactly what you’re thinking, baby. be ready when i get home.’
you: ‘the kind that makes you forget your own name.’
you don’t even need to see him to know he’s definitely flustered as hell, probably rereading your texts a million times to make sure that he didn’t misread them.
there’s a long pause. you put your phone away and continue running errands.
then your phone buzzes frantically in your pocket, so you pick it up to see bucky practically spamming you.
bucky: ‘holy shit.’
bucky: ‘do i have to light candles or something??’
bucky: ‘or like.. just sit here and wait?’
three minutes pass. there’s another buzz.
bucky: ‘i’m already nervous as hell, you can’t just drop that on me while i’m alone in the apartment.’
and then, a final one, after a minute of nothing but those typing dots flashing.
bucky: ‘hurry the fuck up and get home.’
—
by the time you arrive at the doorstep, you could hear footsteps padding around from inside the apartment.
sure enough, bucky’s on the couch when you step inside. his hair’s a little messy, hoodie sleeves pushed up like he didn’t know what to do with his hands while he waited. his knee bounces hard when he sees you, like a dog’s tail wagging enthusiastically.
“hi.” he says, way too softly.
you drop your keys, walk straight to him, then crowd into his space until he’s looking up at you with wide eyes.
“you really think i was joking?” you murmur, pressing your knee onto the gap between his thighs on the couch.
bucky’s breath catches almost instantly.
“i.. didn’t know if you meant it.” he says while backing up with his hands half-raised like he’s about to be arrested.
you were about to punch this stupidly cute guy in the face if he keeps this shit up.
“wait- wait- that’s not- i’m not-” he trips over his own words, eyes darting between you and the spotless apartment. “that’s literally just the bare minimum. i live here, i was supposed to do that.”
but you’re not moved at all. you just tilt your head, all amused and intent.
“mm. still did it, still getting rewarded.”
and bucky looks genuinely distressed about the ethics of this. he stands up and takes a walk to the opposite side of the couch, near the wall.
“no, this feels like cheating.” he insists, cheeks warm. “you can’t just- you can’t praise me for being a functional adult.”
meanwhile you’re crowding him into the wall, grinning, clearly enjoying how flustered he is.
“just accept the reward, bucky.”
he’s trying so hard to plead his innocence.
“i swear, i wasn’t doing it for- for this. i wasn’t trying to earn anything.”
which only makes it worse, because now he sounds so sincere and so noble, and that just makes you want to get closer.
so he gives up mid-sentence, sighs, then mutters.
“..this is fucking ridiculous.”
you grin when he looks at you like a kid who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, half desperate, half worship.
“tell me, bucky.” you whisper.
“h-huh?”
“how do you want it, dumbass?”
bucky swallows, his voice small but steady.
“slow, hard, with you.. doing whatever i- whatever you want, but-” then he chokes on the last word. “..just use me.”
perfect. you love that he asks.
you make it easy for bucky: first, you guide him to your shared bedroom. then you strip him of the stupid hoodie he’s been fidgeting with ever since you got home, peel the fabric off his shoulders and drag the collar down so you can kiss the soft skin on his neck.
he melts into you, hands coming to your hips like he can’t believe he’s actually been given the permission to want. you press your forehead to his and murmur.
“okay. slow, then.”
you’re treating him like he just did something precious, something that deserves attention, and its driving him insane because he knows he didn’t do anything special.
he keeps trying to correct you, breath shaky.
“no, that’s- that’s not- you don’t have to-”
but you’re still there, still close, still looking at him like he hung the moon and stars just for doing a few simple chores, and that confuses him.
you spend the next ten minutes unwrapping him like a present. slow, deliberate kisses down his neck, fingers ghosting over the valley of his chest. when you catch him inhaling sharply, you thumb the edge of his jaw and laugh low.
“you’re so cute when you’re needy.”
bucky clutches at your shirt, even as he tries to stay quiet.
“..say it.” he breathes. “tell me i’m good- fuck, please.”
“that you’re good?” you tease, then give him exactly what he wants, soft praise, skin-on-skin contact, the kind of filthy encouragement that makes him lose his mind. “you did everything, you were responsible, you’re mine for tonight.”
it hits him way harder than he expects. the fight just drains out of him all at once. his shoulders drop, breath stuttering like he’d been holding it for ages. he doesn’t look triumphant or smug about it either. he just looks.. undone.
for a second, bucky didn’t even dare meet your eyes. his jaw tightens, lips parting like he wants to argue again, but nothing comes out. he swallows, slow and thick, and you can see how much that simple affirmation landed.
“yeah?” he murmurs, almost in disbelief.
you nod, then guide him to his back and kneel between his legs, fingers trailing a teasing path on his inner thighs until he’s breathing erratic. you kiss him, then let your mouth follow.
he throws his head back the moment you take him in your mouth, one hand threading into your hair, the other clenching the sheets.
“fuck, please.” he rasps. “don’t stop.”
as if you were going to stop any time soon.
you give him slow worship at first, attentive to every twitch and every moan he lets out. when you feel that shift, an urgent, pleading tilt of his hips, you stand, stripping off what you need and coming down on him the way he asked.
bucky cries out at the loss of your touch, but is quickly silenced by your lips on his.
first, you make him take your fingers.
“please- please just hurry- mmh..” he whines.
“you’re just so tight, relax, will you?” you tease.
you keep working your magic with your fingers while he keeps begging for you to hurry.
“i can take it, you know-”
“no, i don’t want you hurt by the end of this.”
unfortunately for bucky, you’re not an easy person to persuade.
it doesn’t take long for you to bring him to a shuddering first orgasm. he cries out your name, breathless, skin flushed. when he cums that first time, it’s around your fingers, needy and loud. he goes quiet for a second, eyes glazed.
“shit.. that’s..”
you grin because he’s exactly where you want him.
“that good, huh?”
bucky can only nod at your words, too blissed out from earlier.
“come on, hips up.” you ordered, slipping a pillow under his hips to prevent unnecessary soreness from your.. activities.
“hurry..” he whines once more.
“what do you want, handsome?”
“..you.”
you smirk, before slowly entering him.
“fuck- fuck, plea- aah..”
“shh, i’m not even halfway in yet.”
when you finally enter him fully, you pull back slowly just to tease him, then slam back in.
“f- aah!” he yelps.
“mm, you told me you could take it, backing off now? chicken?” you coo.
“n-no! fuck off, i- i can take it.. s-swear.”
honestly, you were impressed that he can even form sentences.
“of course, you’re a big boy, aren’t you?”
fuck. you being condescending and patronising him was definitely his biggest weakness.
you sink in harder, watching his face fold.
“w-wait- c-”
heat, hunger, and the way you look at him push him over the edge a second time easily.
you fuck him through it, making him gasp, voice raw.
“you okay?”
“m-mhm.”
you don’t stop, you keep the rhythm. soft, then deeper, harder, letting him ride the waves before crashing into the next one.
bucky’s entire body tightens, his hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white.
“o-okay, you can- fuck, slow- slow down a little-”
“i know damn well that’s not what you want, buck.”
you guide him with deliberate thrusts until he eventually cums again, this time with a ragged, ecstatic sound that leaves him shaking, gasping and somehow laughing through tears.
“jeez, are you seriously laughing right now?” you tease, kissing him on the forehead while slowing down a little to make sure he has a little space to breathe.
“can’t help it- fuck, hah.. feels so.. mm.” he shuts up the moment he was about to admit how good it felt.
you start once more. between thrusts, you kiss him until he forgets to think.
at first you fuck bucky slow to steady his breathing.
“..why are you going- mm, so slow?”
“wouldn’t want my absolute saint of a boyfriend to pass out on me, would i?” you wink at him.
he cringes at what you just said, because what the actual fuck?
but before he could tell you off, you move faster, harder, each push an answer to the way he begged to be used.
bucky loses whatever little composure remained, his moans were coming out sloppy now. he cums the third time around you.
“fuck- oh shit- aah- plea- mmh..”
“okay- fuck, relax, buck- aah, you have to relax or i’ll-”
and finally it’s your turn to cum, spilling inside him while his eyes roll back from sheer bliss.
it takes you a good minute to come back to your senses, but when you finally do, bucky’s already moving his hips against you.
“desperate much?”
“only when it comes to you. you know i- aah!”
you cut him off with harsher thrusts than before, and he swears he feels his limbs go limp.
it takes only a few more thrusts before bucky is cumming again. it’s obvious his body is running on autopilot now, addicted to the pleasure you’re delivering to him.
“someone’s excited tonight. four times, really?”
he can’t answer you even if he tried. he’s shaking so hard you’re surprised your bed frame isn’t shaking along with him.
by the end he’s splayed against you, entirely wrecked, eyes half lidded, mouth slack, cheeks stained where your kisses and his own tears have muddied his skin. his brain has gone honey-thick, every breath is quick and shallow until he eventually calms down.
“are you okay, buck? come on, answer me.”
“mmh.” he nods while he lets out a half sleepy noise.
bucky presses his face into your chest and mumbles something you can’t make out, before drifting into that blissed out stupor of someone who’s thoroughly satisfied with exactly what they asked for.
you fold him into your arms and smirk into his hair.
he sighs, utterly content, somehow melting more in your hold.
— keeping him quiet so he doesn’t attract zombies !
I was thinking of that one scene in the re3 remake when I made this. Yk the one with him turning into a zombie? Favorite part of the game ngl..
The two of you were nowhere near where you were supposed to be. There was a large group of zombies blocking off the road you needed to go down, so you had to find another way. Which you did…sort of.
The alleyway was dark and full of trash and other debris from god knows what. That didn’t seem to faze you, though. You still had Carlos backed up against a wall with your hand on his cock. Yes, there are zombies scattered out all over Raccoon City and yes, there is a high chance some are near the both of you, buuut neither you or Carlos could help yourselves.
You both were very stressed out with the current situation and needed a little break. So, here you guys are…“relieving your stress.”
Your lips pressed against his to silent him. Well, that was before his jaw dropped when your thumb swiped across his tip. Carlos whimpered as his hips stuttered up and further into your hand. “Shit..” he hissed, carefully leaning his head back against the brick wall behind him. One of his hands was gripping onto his vest like it owed him money, his other on your shoulder. When you started rubbing circles on the head he knew he was done for. Whines soon started to flow from his mouth as if you were somewhere safe; his legs started to shake slightly and his hips jerked more frequently.
“You need to be more quiet.” You whispered.
“I’m trying.” He grunted, eyes closing for a brief moment.
He knew he had to be quiet, he really did but it was difficult knowing that he was so, so close to cumming. Plus, the two of you haven’t gotten off in, like, forever due to being so caught up with work. Of course he’s gonna be a little sensitive and not last long. His pre dripped onto the floor and soon started to form a small puddle. “How close are you?” You asked, trying to figure out what you were going to do to keep him quiet before he blows his load.
“Really fuckin’ close..” his jaw was clenched and he was seriously trying his best. But when you sped up and put your hand over his mouth because you knew he wouldn’t be able to be quiet, all that did was push him over the edge. And you were right, of course you were. Noises—whines, whimpers, cry’s you name it, were all being muffled by your hand. You were a tad disappointed (way more than just a tad), because you weren’t able to hear him and his sweet sounds. But it’s for your safety so you don’t get bitten by some zombie, you’ll be okay.
Not necessarily big as in genitalia, but big as in broading. Big shoulders and thighs, nice and burly and tall, just taking up space even when they don't mean to.
Big as in when you two walk together they're often considered the 'dominant' one in any situation, most people you come in contact with constantly asking just how on earth you take that every night. To which you just chuckle and shake it off, because the thought of you begging for them is almost comical.
As of they don't regularly drop to their knees whether you ask them to or not, big hands pawing at your crotch or inner thighs just for an ounce of your attention. How despite their size and opportunity to just take what they want from you—they would have no struggle practically picking you up off the ground and taking the lead. But they choose not to. They choose and even prefer to be at your mercy, embracing cruel or praising words while they writhe and beg for either more or less stimulation.
infact they get flustered when you offer the idea of them topping instead, they won't turn you down because they want you to feel good but they also show how little they know about it with how shaky their hips are when they roll into you, bear hugging you with deep strokes, nuzzled deep in your neck just begging for you to do something because they don't know what they're doing but what they do know is that it doesn't feel as good as when you do it.
a twist on the y/n x ceo memes i keep seeing around recently ✌️ my first attempt at writing a more cruel reader pls bear with me
cw: reader has a dick, rough unprotected sex, spit as lube, mean reader, hair pulling, closeted boyfriend
rumours. that's all they were, obviously. the two of you had an agreement. you'd keep the relationship a secret, and you'd love each other in private. of course, you did your best to understand... he was in a highly precarious position after all. he'd never given you reason to complain - he was an attentive lover behind closed doors, never the type to be disloyal. surely that was still the case?
yet, you couldn't help the twinge of doubt that tugged at your heart as your footsteps reverberated down the familiar hallway towards his office. you used to visit regularly, under the guise of a meeting between business partners. as of late, however, he'd been requesting your presence less and less. you assumed he'd been overworked... surely that couldn't coincide with the newest office gossip your friend offhandedly mentioned of the ceo's affair with the new female employee? their alleged passionate flirtations, while you'd been at home preparing an extra helping of his favourite meal to lessen his burden?
but there she was. massaging his shoulders while he sighed in contentment, looking up at her with the same gaze he gave you every night. the two of them looked up in surprise as you entered without knocking, as if you were interrupting them. everything voice in your head was screaming at you to scream, get mad, hit him.... but despite this, you remained calm. a small smile crept its way onto your face. this was going to be... amusing, to say the least.
"sorry, miss. do you mind leaving us alone for a bit? we're supposed to have an important meeting currently." you were all smiles to her, willfully ignoring his panicked expression as he looked helplessly between you and her. a twisted sense of satisfaction found itself settling in your heart - anything he said would just dig himself into a deeper hole.
"oh, of course. see you later." she blew a kiss to him as she left the room, winking.
the tension in the office was so thick, it was almost palpable. you waited for him to break the silence, or perhaps he was waiting for you to say something. moving closer, he flinched. "what's wrong?" you tilted your head in feigned confusion. you were so calm, it unnerved him.
"listen- darling, she came onto me. it's not what it looks like-" he babbled, desperately trying to save face. his eyes lit up with fear as you stepped closer, only to turn into surprise when you merely reached to gingerly massage his shoulders like she did just moments earlier. the lingering warmth of her hands tingled along his neck, only to be extinguished by your icy touch.
"hey, don't go pointing fingers. she seems like a perfectly nice woman. i'm sure she wouldn't have came on so strong if she knew you were attached." your grip turned venomous, as you bundled a bunch of his hair and brought him up to your eye level. whimpers escaped his mouth at the pain. "too bad someone's ashamed of me."
"not- not ashamed!" he denied vehemently, struggling to free himself from your grip. it was hard, since you'd always been the physically stronger one. "i- i love you, it's just- you know how it is! people would stop investing in the company if they knew i was in a relationship with a- a-... y'know..." even he knew how absurd that sentence sounded, trailing off as he looked into your eyes for any trace of forgiveness. "i'm sorry!!! i'll tell her to back off, just please-"
"always about the company, isn't it?" you murmured, slamming him down onto his desk, watching as his neatly stacked papers flew everywhere. your hardening crotch pressed against his ass, ignoring his pleas for mercy. leaning down, you whispered in his ear, breath sending nervous tingles down his spine. "you've never once thought about how i feel. having to keep everything a secret, and this is how you repay me?" delivering a harsh slap to his buttock, he lets out a sharp yelp of pain, spasming against his desk, sending even more papers flying. "i'm sorry- i'm sorry-" is all his dumb brain can muster, feeling your hands tug down his pants without warning. he's an incoherent mess, tears and snot dribbling down his face. it's all happening too fast. the difference between this and your usual love-making sessions were like night and day - usually, you held him gently, like a doll, afraid to break. but now, you were treating him like some disposable fucktoy.
a little spit was all he deserved as prep. he frantically looked behind as he felt you wet his entrance, trying to gesture towards some drawer in his desk. "please- honey, i have lube and condoms in there-" he froze, realising the implications of his words. "no, wait! i don't mean- ughhh." you cut him off by stuffing him full, relishing in the sight of him scrambling to hold onto the desk so his knees don't give out. "of course you do." you weren't even angry anymore, just disappointed.
bundling up a fistful of his hair again, you started to thrust at a reckless pace, with little concern for how well he was adjusting. you drank up his whines and moans as he convulsed against the desk, fingers clawing at anything to find purchase. "bet you fuck her like this everyday, don't you?" you snarled in his ear, feeling him clench harder at the sheer hostility in your voice. "i don't- i really, really don't!! i was saving the condoms for you-" "fucking liar." it was a rather cathartic sight seeing your usually powerful boyfriend reduced to a trembling, whimpering mess. the way he tried to blatantly deny everything was sorta cute, really. it just made you want to ruin him more.
switching positions, you lifted him up with ease, pinning him against the nearest the wall and continuing to fuck in and out of him. his eyes nearly bulge out of his head at the sudden change in elevation, hands clawing at your shoulders so he doesn't fall down. "kiss me- please, kiss meeee-" he angles his head upwards, desperately trying to capture your lips in a display of affection. "no." you said coldly, a cruel smile playing on your lips. the look of pure disappointment that crosses his features is priceless. "y'know what would get me to forgive you?" "just tell me, please- i'll do anything." "let me carry you outside like this, and fuck you in front of everyone." "no!! no... please...." he sobbed vehemently against your chest. "anything but that...."
"hm. as expected. embarrassed of me until the end." he couldn't even refute your words, head hung low, ashamed of his behaviour. "where did i go wrong, truly? having such a slut for a boyfriend...." you sighed, tilting his head upwards, forcing him to meet your scornful gaze. your cock throbbed and pulsed, nearly deforming his insides. it was a clear reminder of who he really belonged to, at the end of the day. his own cock flopped around, weeping and unattended, like it was useless. "don't cry, now.... you got yourself into this mess." without warning, you released inside him, feeling his legs tighten around your hips as he tried his best to muffle his own mewls.
he slumped against the wall, looking up at you through his eyelashes. your fluids leaked out of him, staining the carpet white. "you really should clean this place up." as you buckled your pants back up, you gestured towards the documemts strewn everywhere, a record of your heated disciplining. "wouldn't want anyone to find out, would we?" he winced at the mockery in your voice, only able to blink away tears of regret. gods, who knew what punishment was awaiting him back home....
